


Unbroken

by BHP



Category: Magnum P.I. (TV 2018)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 18:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17872604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BHP/pseuds/BHP
Summary: After two days with no sleep, chasing missing cats and murderers of FBI agents, Magnum crashes hard.This takes place after the end of ‘The cat who cried wolf’, episode 7 in season 1.This is also posted on FFnet.





	Unbroken

I don’t own the show or the characters, but only the words on this page. I’d love to hear what you think.

Unbroken  
by BHP

 

The King Kamehameha Club was hopping. Literally. Rick stared at the dance floor, then rubbed his eyes hard. Maybe he was seeing things. He’d managed to catch a couple of hours sleep in the afternoon, but he was still tired from spending most of the previous night with TC and Higgins, hunting across a dark ocean for one Thomas Magnum. That kind of alertness took a toll, as he well knew, but this? He took another look, only to find he hadn’t been hallucinating. The dance floor was hopping; every single person jumping in unison. He’d have preferred hallucinations.

He yawned, smothering it behind his hand as he made his rounds of the club. Everything was running smoothly for a change. No angry patrons, no missing wallets, no ladies of the night trying to use the bar area to pick up clients. A nice, quiet evening. Relatively speaking.

Unfortunately.

With nothing else to focus on, his mind kept going back to Thomas when they’d found him, floating in that raft. He knew Thomas could be a real boy scout, so he hadn’t really been surprised to find that Thomas had saved the life of the man who tried to kill him. But the strain had been clear to anyone who knew his friend well. He’d been operating on instinct and stubbornness by the time TC’s chopper had passed overhead, and Rick’s arrival had allowed him to relax for the first time in two days. The difference had been huge, even if only in Rick’s eyes.

The tension had faded a bit, but soon after that, the twitchiness began to set in. The other man in the raft hadn’t seen it, because he’d never had to look for it before. First it was Magnum’s fingers, rubbing endlessly across his knees. Not hard, like he was trying to achieve something; more aimless and distracted. Then came the tic in his left leg, starting with just a minute shift of his foot, every couple of seconds. By the time the Coast Guard arrived, that had progressed to a definite rocking motion, much too fast to be accidental.

But through it all, Thomas was his usual chatty self. Laughing about how it had taken him so many years to find out that he was allergic to cats. Which was a real shame, because he thought they were really cute, and he would have liked to rile Higgins up by telling her he was going to get a cat and name it Diana. For the huntress from mythology, of course, so that the cat would get on well with Zeus and Apollo.

Rick had let it all wash over him, only too glad to hear Thomas talking at all. After they’d boarded the Coast Guard vessel, he’d settled himself right next to Thomas, waiting to see if the twitchiness eased. That was when he’d felt the bandages and managed to drag a few pertinent facts out of his friend. He was less than impressed to realise that he and TC had been unaware of a trip to the hospital. Maybe he needed to have a quiet word with Higgins about Magnum’s tendency to downplay injuries.

With that last thought still lingering, Rick finally admitted what he’d been trying to avoid ever since they’d made it back to land. Thomas wasn’t coping too well right now. No matter what he said. Granted, they’d all come a long way since escaping from the Taliban, but that didn’t mean that ghosts didn’t linger and hope for opportunities to haunt anew.

Rick caught the eye of his barman, and let the man know that he was leaving for the night. Sam was a solid and dependable guy, and Rick knew that the club was in safe hands. He slipped out the door and headed for his car, tugging his phone from the pocket of his jeans and dialling TC.

The phone had barely started to ring when TC picked up.

“Yo, Rick. What’s up?” TC was steady and calm. Something Rick realised that he needed right now.  
“You busy?” He really hoped TC wasn’t.  
“Nothing that can’t wait. Why?”  
“Thomas.” The tone of that one word said everything TC needed to know.  
“Damn. We need to visit?”  
“I think so.” The relief at admitting it was clear in Rick’s voice, and he knew TC would call him on it later.  
“You on your way?” Rick could hear the sounds in the background, as TC closed up his office.  
“Yeah. See you in ten.”  
“I’ll be waiting.”

Ten minutes later, TC swung himself into the passenger seat of Rick’s car, apprehension clear in every line.  
“What’s going on, Rick?”  
“Maybe nothing. I hope, nothing.”  
“Okay, so something.” TC shot a grin in Rick’s direction, and he couldn’t help but grin back.  
“I really hope it’s just my imagination, TC.”  
“I’d like to think that too, but I think we both know better.”  
“Pity.”  
“True. So what are you thinking?”  
“I’m thinking that he’s exhausted. He’s been running on fumes, and an overload of adrenaline, since that guy took him from the warehouse.”  
“At gunpoint, too.”  
“Now that you mention it, yeah. That too.”  
Rick sighed, hating the fact that he felt like he was ratting Thomas out. He knew, logically, that he was doing the right thing, but that didn’t make it any easier. Every time this happened, it took such a toll on Magnum that the guilt ate away at Rick for days.  
“Okay, so. Details.”  
“I keep seeing him on that raft, TC. After you went back for fuel and we were waiting for the Coast Guard. He was twitching again.”  
“How bad?”  
“Just the fingers and the left foot.”  
“That’s something, I guess.”  
“So anyway, we get on the Coast Guard boat, we hand over the prisoner, and then I sit myself down as close as I can get without looking like we’re a couple.”  
“You are a couple – of what, I’m not sure, but my money’s on something way out there.”  
“Thanks for that, TC. I love you too.” Snide was Rick’s forte.  
“Anyway, as I was saying. It turns out our boy is sporting bandages. So I do a little quiet digging. He somehow ‘forgot’ to mention that he was hit by a car yesterday.”  
“What?” TC was shocked. “And he didn’t tell us?”  
“Yeah. Claims he was too busy. I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt this time.”  
“Okay.” TC was reluctant, but he’d follow Rick’s lead on this. “So, what’s the damage?”  
“Three broken ribs.”  
“Where?” Dread filled the quiet question. TC understood now.  
“Right where we don’t want them to be.” Rick’s tone was sombre.  
“You made the right call, Rick.” The support in TC’s tone was clear and steady, and Rick relaxed a fraction. It was always better to share the load, and he knew from bitter experience that there was no one better than TC to be his anchor.

The gate to Robin’s Nest loomed in front of them, the estate sitting dark and silent, waiting. For what, Rick wasn’t sure. Or maybe it was just his own apprehension that made it seem as though the estate was watching him, waiting for him to put a foot wrong and cause more damage than he could fix.

He punched the code into the keypad and waited as the gates slowly swung open. He eased the car through, keeping the revs low to contain the noise. He might like Higgins, but there were some things she didn’t need to know. Maybe one day. Maybe when he could be more certain of where she stood, of how much Thomas was willing to share with her. But until then, he’d prefer not to run into her and have to explain why he and TC were visiting in the dead of night.

They’d barely taken two steps from the car when they heard running feet. Paws. Zeus and Apollo rounded the corner at a full run, and Rick dropped to one knee and held out a hand. Both dogs skidded to a halt a foot short of his body and then, in turn, sniffed his hand. Then they both promptly sat down, tipped their heads to one side and waited for Rick to scratch their ears.

While Rick charmed the dogs, TC started the walk to the guest house. All the lights were off, which could be a good thing or not. The only way to find out was to actually brave the dark and see what state Magnum was in. His sneaker caught on something on the grass, and he stopped, looked down and saw what looked like one of Magnum’s shirts. He retrieved it and felt a chill run through him. The material was shredded in places, the tears clearly made by the two Dobermans.

He waved the shirt towards Rick as the other man came towards him.  
“What you got there, big guy?” Rick’s voice was soft, the tone designed to be quiet but carry well. Oh, the skills you could learn in the military.

“Looks like Magnum’s shirt.”  
“Ouch.” Rick stuck a finger through one of the rips in the material, and winced. “I really hope he wasn’t wearing this when it happened.”  
“He’s always said those dogs are a lawsuit waiting to happen.”  
“True. But TC, this shirt is wet. It only rained an hour ago, so I bet he’s fine.” Rick really hoped he was right. Thomas didn’t need dog bites on top of broken ribs.  
“Yeah. You’re right about the rain. Let’s hope you’re right about the rest of it, too.”

The two men slipped quietly into the guest house, easily avoiding any obstacles in spite of the lack of light. Both of them were as familiar with the layout here as they were with their own homes.

“I hope he’s got a light on in the bedroom.” TC’s quiet murmur was half prayer.  
“Me too. This could get real ugly if he doesn’t.” Rick’s answer was equal parts fear and supplication. Rick turned the corner into the bedroom, and sighed out quietly.  
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

TC stepped into the room behind him, stopping for a moment to let his eyes get accustomed to the dim lighting. Light was always good on a night like this. And then they both got a good look at the man in the bed.

The night got downgraded from worrying to hellish in a heartbeat.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was dark. That was all he was sure of. That, and the fact that everything hurt. Breathing hurt. Moving hurt. Hell, thinking hurt. Maybe that hurt worst of all. Because he kept replaying every blow he’d seen land on his friends, and every cry he’d borne witness to.

They were coming again. Those dark figures that brought nothing but pain and despair. They always came back. Even when he hoped they wouldn’t, begged for it in the deepest recesses of his mind. But he never let a word pass his lips. He was to blame. And silence was part of the payment for his failure. Even if he could never really atone for his sins.

Still, the figures came. It was his fault. Always his fault. He did everything he could to attract their attention, after all, so why was he surprised when they did what he wanted them to?

He stole. Food, when he could do it without being seen. His friends needed it, and he was quick enough to succeed sometimes. He stole other things too. A gun. A radio. Anything else that wasn’t bolted down. And they always caught him. And now he could hear them, coming again. Quiet steps. Barely heard voices.

He tried to make himself as small a target as possible, to cover his head before the blow started. But he couldn’t get his arms up – the sharp pain in his side forced him to clamp an arm over his side. He bit down hard on the whimper that slipped out, and sank his teeth into his lip to keep any other sounds inside. He had a sudden flash of Nuzo’s face, leaning over him, eyes filled with worry. The smell of his own singed flesh. But he was not going to make another sound. He would not make his friends suffer through hearing his pain. He clenched his fists in determination. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Magnum looked like he was asleep. But Rick wasn’t fooled. Magnum was only asleep in the most basic of definitions of the word. He definitely wasn’t conscious of his surroundings. At least, certainly not Hawaii.

He was dead still in the bed, but every line of his body screamed tension. The bandages stood out starkly against his bare skin, terrifyingly reminiscent of other seasons of pain and suffering. He was holding himself still, muscles rigid with the strain. As they watched, he pulled himself into as small a huddle as he could manage, trying to tuck his arms over his head. But the motion pulled up short, and a whimper slipped out, sharply bitten off, as he pulled his right arm tight against his side, supporting the broken ribs. He sank his teeth into his lip to muffle any more sounds, while his fingers twitched spasmodically before clenching into fists. The knuckles stood out white under the strain, but his silence remained complete.

Rick took one look and sighed. The guilt poured through him, and he cast a despairing glance at TC.  
“Looks like I waited too long.”  
“Not your fault, Rick. He hides it really well.”

At the sound of voices, Magnum startled and shifted. As Rick and TC moved closer, they realised that he’d started to mutter under his breath, a monotone too quiet to let them make out the words. Then he flinched, trying to pull away from some invisible force pulling at him, but unable to make any headway. Goose bumps rose on his skin and a shiver shook his body. The muttering got louder, and if possible, even less lucid. Not English, which was never good.

Rick moved closer, trying to make out the words, hoping for a clue as to where Magnum’s mind had gone. But nothing was clear enough, except for the fact that the slurred words were in Dari. Afghanistan.

“Dari.” He murmured the word to TC, and caught the slight flinch around his friend’s eyes.  
“So, Afghanistan. Probably the camp.”  
“So not good.”

“Ashetbah men.” The hitch in the words filled Rick’s heart with thoughts of murder. If he could lay his hands on even one of the Taliban from that camp – let’s just say that they’d go to meet their maker in less than optimal condition. And they’d even have the advantage of knowing what was coming, because he remembered everything they’d ever done to Thomas, and he’d return every action with interest.

“Did he just say …” TC’s whisper suddenly filled the room.  
“Yeah, he did. Ashetbah men.” Rick shuddered as a sudden chill swept up his spine. Suddenly jeans and a t-shirt didn’t seem warm enough. “We’re back in the ‘it’s all my fault’ days.”  
“They really did a number on him with that one.” TC’s tone was final. “What I wouldn’t give for just one hour with one of those guys.”  
“You and me both.” Rick knew TC shared his views on that. Then he shrugged. “Good thing we’ve got all night.”  
“Always.” TC nodded. “How’re you planning to do this? The usual?”  
“Yeah, it’s always worked before.”

Rick settled himself quietly on the floor next to the bed, shifting enough to slide the cushion TC tossed his way between his back and the wall. He was going to be there for a while. TC slid down against the foot of the bed, close enough to grab Magnum’s feet if he decided to kick out at his captors. They’d learned after the first of these nightmares to keep their distance from flying feet and hands when Magnum relived this particular experience. There were only so many excuses you could make for black eyes, after all.

Rick took a breath, and began to talk.  
“Hey, Thomas. It’s Rick and TC. I know you can hear me. Just listen to what I’m saying, okay?”  
He kept his tone quiet, even, soothing. A counterpoint to the madness and noise he knew were filling Magnum’s head. He’d learned from experience that making Magnum strain to hear him, past all the other noise, was the one way to make sure that Thomas focussed only on his voice. And heard him clearly.

“You’re safe. You’re home, with us. I know you know this. You’re safe here.”  
Rick felt his eyes fill, and let the emotion seep into the words. TC would never hold the tears against him. He sniffed hard, and went on.

“Now, you’re never going to believe what happened tonight at the King Kamehameha Club. But let’s start with the background first. Unlike you, bud, I know how to tell a story. So two weeks ago, this woman comes in and says she wants to book the club for her friend’s bachelorette party. Really buttoned-up woman, you know. One of those strict formal outfits, tailored trousers and jacket, very understated and really, really rich. She offers this ridiculous amount for the night, and I upgrade really, really rich to richer than Croesus, and think – why not? I am more than willing to take your money.”

Rick paused and cast a glance at the bed. The muttering was still audible, but the slurring had faded into clear words. TC nodded and waved a hand for Rick to carry on with the story.

“So, she arrives today with her ‘planning committee’ as she calls them. Three women, who look like they’ve just come in off the beach. Not one formal outfit on any of them, just bikinis, sarongs and flip flops. And they start decorating the bar, hanging feather boas and tinsel from the light fittings, and propping beach umbrellas up against the walls. Still, no worries really. I mean, all that stuff is easy to clear away.”

The muttering was only sporadic now, and Rick crossed his fingers. This was taking less time than he’d expected and hoped, so maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as some nights.

“The guests start arriving at eight, and it looks like a beach party. They’re all –”

Rick broke off as the muttering from the bed morphed into English, with an undertone of grief and shame.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. All my fault. Take me. Please, don’t hurt them.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The taunting had started again. The mocking comments about Western infidels – soft, helpless, weak. The jokes about how this one was such a failure that even his woman didn’t want him. They had to know by now that he spoke Dari; he hadn’t been smart enough or quick enough to hide his understanding.

Fear rose up and choked him. They were going to drag him out of the Hole again. It was dark and cold – freezing – but at least it was safe.

The shame hit him hard. He was safe. Really? Was that what mattered? What about his friends? So what if his captors beat him again? So what if they told him it was all his fault? It was.

He forced the fear down deep inside of him, locked it in a corner and deliberately turned his back on it. His friends needed him to be strong.

His friends. Funny, but for just a moment, he could have sworn that he heard Rick’s voice. He strained his ears and there it was again. A faint thread of light and humour, optimism, and beach umbrellas? The thin thread of sound grew faintly stronger.

Stronger. That’s what he needed to be. For his friends. If that meant agreeing with his captors, so be it.

So he said what they wanted to hear.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. All my fault. Take me. Please, don’t hurt them.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TC shifted from the floor at the foot of the bed, then settled on the mattress and laid a gentle hand on Magnum’s ankle. Thomas twitched, then settled again, digging his head into the pillow and trying to hide his face.

Rick eased himself closer to the bed and took hold of Magnum’s fingers, stilling their clenching. He held them, rubbing his thumb gently over the knuckles, easing the muscles out of their tight constriction. Trying to warm the chilled skin with little more than willpower.

“So, like I was saying. All the guests start arriving at eight. It’s your standard party; a little too much booze, the music a hair too loud, a lot of squealing and laughing. Then the woman who made the booking in the first place goes over to talk to the DJ, and the next thing I see, everyone is hopping!”

“Come again? Hopping?” TC was confused.  
“Yeah. Just like rabbits. They’ve even found some fluffy tails and stuck them on the back of everyone’s outfit, and they’re literally hopping across the floor.”  
“No way, man.”  
“Yes, way.” Rick shifted awkwardly, unwilling to loosen his grip on Magnum’s fingers, or stop rubbing his thumb over Magnum’s knuckles. He managed to dig his phone out of his pocket and flipped through the screens one-handed, hunting for the video he’d uploaded from the security cameras.  
“I knew you wouldn’t believe me, so check out the proof.”  
TC stretched across the bed to watch the video, then leaned back, bemused.  
“I don’t get it.”  
“You and me both, brother. Maybe we should get our private investigator here to figure it out.”

Rick gently squeezed the fingers he still held and was rewarded when the one eye of Magnum’s that he could see fluttered open. The other was still hidden by the pillow, but Rick knew that the confusion he saw would be reflected there as well. But at least the recognition of who Rick and TC were was clear. Then that eye slipped closed again, and a single tear trailed slowly from beneath the lid. Rick couldn’t hold back any longer and dropped his phone on the bed so that he could reach out with his now-free hand and gently wipe the tear away. Thomas froze, then relaxed when the gentle touch brought no pain with it.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That faint thread of sound was louder now. The more he focussed on it, the clearer it became. It made absolutely no sense. Rabbits? Hopping? Had the Hole finally driven him completely nuts?

But another sensation was intruding now. Warmth. His hand was warm. His ankle. The Hole was only ever dark and cold. Sometimes wet, too. But never warm.

The gentle pressure on his fingers increased. He braced himself for the moment the pressure moved from gentle to agony, but it never came. Confusion forced him to open his eyes. He had to know what was going on, regardless of the consequences.

Rick and TC. No uniforms. No dirt. No sand. No lurking dark and shadowy figures. But no Nuzo. The confusion grew, clouding everything in a faint haze of panic. Somehow, he’d failed Nuzo. That pain was unbearable. He let his eyes fall shut. One tear slipped down his cheek. A gentle touch wiped it away.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m sorry.” The words rasped out, quiet and pained.  
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Rick was clear, and TC echoed him.  
“I should have seen it coming. I should have known.” The words were coming clearer now, more lucid, and Rick hoped Magnum would wake fully. “Why?”  
“I don’t know, Tommy. None of us does.”  
“You should have left me.”  
“No way. You know that’s not how we do things.” TC’s deep voice answered.  
“Tommy, you need to wake up now. Properly, okay?” Rick kept his voice gentle and quiet, but insistent enough to get through the fog. “It’s Rick. Wake up for me.”

One sudden, hard shudder shook Magnum’s body, and he tried to roll onto his back. A pained yelp broke free and he pulled his arm back over the broken ribs again. His eyes shot open, and took in the worry that lay over Rick and TC like a shroud.

The embarrassment surged and he looked away, only to have TC tighten his grip on Magnum’s ankle.  
“Hey now, none of that.”  
“Sorry, guys.”  
“Nothing to apologise for. At least this time you didn’t kick me in the head.” TC chuckled at the memory now, but it had scared Magnum rigid when it happened. That had been the start of a long, hard campaign to get the other man to accept any help at all when his mind dragged him to places he’d rather not revisit. It had taken months to convince him that they didn’t care if he lashed out at them, because he would have accepted the same reaction from any of them.

Slowly, the tension faded out of Magnum’s muscles. He managed to take one deep breath, then followed it up with another. Within moments, all three of them were following the same pattern. A few minutes later, Magnum finally managed to sit up in the bed, the movements slow and careful.

“Ribs hurting?” The tone suggested the question was pointless, and Rick snorted slightly. “I’m guessing you didn’t take anything for them.”  
“You know I don’t like feeling fuzzy and out of control.” Even Magnum winced at how much like a whine that sounded.  
“I’ll let that slide because you’re tired.” Rick shared a glance with TC. “Now, where did you put whatever they prescribed you at the hospital?”  
“Bathroom.”

TC was off the bed in a second, coming back moments later with the bottle and a glass of water.  
“The label says two, but I’m not going to have that fight with you. Just take one.” He held out the tablet and the glass, not willing to suffer any objections.  
Reluctance in every movement, Magnum did as he was told.

“Now, about the elephant in the room.” Rick hated bringing it up, but leaving it unsaid would just let Magnum stew in the guilt again.  
“I thought you were talking about rabbits.” The words slipped out, and Magnum looked slightly puzzled. “What’s in those pills? Where did that come from?”  
“I knew you were listening. Just wait till I show you the video.” Rick laughed, and pulled the conversation back in. “But back to the elephant.”  
“You’re blaming yourself again.” TC laid it out clearly.  
“And we’ve told you before, Thomas,” Rick leaned in for emphasis, “that none of us blame you. We never have.”  
“We never will.” TC added. “So lay off the guilt, please.”

“That doesn’t change the facts, TC. You know that.” Magnum couldn’t look at either of his friends, keeping his gaze fastened on his hands, interlocking his fingers repetitively. “I’m the reason we were captured. I should have found a way to get you all out, a way to do something differently, to make it better for all of you.”

“And what about you, Thomas?” Rick’s question was so quiet, it was almost toneless.

Magnum flapped a hand in the air, brushing the question aside as though inconsequential.  
Rick grabbed on tight to the flapping hand and refused to let go, latching his grip around the slightly-twitching fingers.  
“Nope. We’re done with that outlook, Thomas. You know we are.”  
“We made each other a promise.” TC cut in, his voice low and steady.  
Rick rolled his hand over, never losing his grip on Magnum’s fingers, but making sure his ring was clear to see.  
“Do I have to remind you what this means?” He waited until Magnum shook his head slightly, and went on. “None of us are to blame for what happened to all of us.”  
“I know, I do, but … sometimes, I just think …”  
“You think?” TC asked. “Come on, man, what’s going on in that head of yours?”  
“Maybe there’s something broken in me that I can’t fix. That you can’t fix, and shouldn’t have to. Maybe I’m just … too broken.”  
TC met Rick’s eyes then, seeing the shine of unshed tears there that matched the burn in his own eyes. He laid a hand on Magnum’s shoulder as Rick sniffed hard.  
“No, Thomas.” Rick let go of Magnum’s hand and took the other man’s face in both hands, forcing Magnum to meet his eyes.  
“You’re not too broken. None of us are, thanks to you. Maybe we’re all a bit battered around the edges – you more than us, it’s true – but you’re not broken.”  
Rick looked at TC and back at Magnum.  
“We’re not broken. You kept us whole.”  
“All of us.” TC chimed in too. He tugged gently at Magnum’s shoulder, making Thomas turn slightly to face him.  
“You remember what Nuzo always said about you; you’re too stubborn for your own good.”  
Magnum had the grace to look faintly embarrassed.  
“You remember what else he said when we got out? We got captured together, we got out together. We stick together, and together – ” TC left the sentence dangling, and a second later, all three voices completed it.  
“We can get through anything.”

“Right. Now that we’ve finished the educating-the-terminally-stubborn portion of this evening’s entertainment programme,” Rick’s voice took on a lighter tone, “how about we move this little party to somewhere more comfortable. Like that really comfy sofa, with all those nice soft cushions."

TC chuckled and even Magnum managed a smile. Slowly getting to his feet, Magnum headed towards the sofa Rick indicated, settling himself carefully in the middle. There was no point sitting anywhere else, as past nights like this had made it very clear who sat where. TC settled in on Magnum’s left, after visiting the bookshelf and collecting one of Robin Masters’ White Knight books.

Rick settled in on the other side, making sure to be close enough to offer both support for Magnum’s injured ribs and warmth to ward off the lingering chills.

TC eyed the new shirt lying on the nearby chair and tipped his head toward it. Rick followed his gaze and nodded. TC shifted enough that he could look at Magnum when he spoke.

“Nice shirt over there. Not quite your usual style.”  
“Higgins gave it to me.” Magnum shrugged one shoulder, and TC closed in on his real question.  
“Why did I find your shirt outside, shredded?”  
“Higgins was giving the dogs a refresher course. This morning, no hang on, more like – yesterday morning.”  
“With your shirt?” If Thomas had truly been paying attention, the tone would have set off warning bells.  
“She said she’d get me a new one, and she did. You just said you liked it.”  
“It doesn’t bother you?”  
“Hey, no harm done. Although I really liked that shirt – nice shade of blue.” Magnum sounded faintly wistful about the loss.  
“She used your shirt to train the dogs to attack, and you don’t have a problem with that?”  
The medication was clearly starting to take effect, as the question seemed to require a great deal of thought.  
“I know I complain about her twin velociraptors, but come on, TC, they’d never really hurt me.” Magnum sounded unconcerned, even slightly drunk, and Rick couldn’t quite smother his chuckle. Magnum on drugs was always amusing.  
“Seriously, they haven’t bitten me yet.” Magnum kept trying to make his point.  
“Let’s just say that they’d better not.” TC’s tone left no room for argument.  
“Don’t get so upset about it. Come on, relax.” Magnum patted TC’s knee, the movement slow and a little less graceful than usual.  
“I’ll let it go this time, but Higgins better watch out if they ever lay a tooth on you.” TC closed the subject by reaching for the book again.

“Which one this time?” Rick was curious.  
“The one with the jump from space.”  
“Seriously? You hate that one.” Rick laughed.  
“Only because it’s so obviously not true.” Then TC shrugged and smiled. “But it is damn funny.”

He started to read, the words flowing soothingly from the page, his voice filling the room with peace and security. Magnum leaned back against the cushions, his eyes drifting slowly shut. When his breathing evened out, Rick and TC shared a glance, then slowly shifted closer on each side. They cocooned Magnum between them, holding the demons at bay.

After a while, TC stopped reading and waited. Magnum didn’t move. He quietly closed the book and stretched one arm out to lay the book on the table. Rick tipped his head towards Magnum and TC nodded.

“Nuzo had it right about him, you know. Too stubborn for his own good.” Rick kept his voice barely above a whisper, keen to let Magnum sleep peacefully for as long as he could.  
“Yeah. You just can’t get him to admit that it wasn’t his fault.”  
Rick nodded agreement.  
“That guilt complex of his would crush anyone else. But nothing he did could have changed things. The deck was stacked against him the whole time.”  
“True.” TC shifted and sighed. “I guess we’ll just keep telling him.”  
“Good to have a purpose, isn’t it?” Rick’s comment accompanied a quiet snort of laughter.

Thomas shifted, tensing, and both men held their breath for a moment. Rick held still, hoping they weren’t going to have to go through the whole process again. But the tension faded again, and Thomas relaxed completely against them.

Rick looked up to find TC watching him, dark eyes almost unreadable.  
“You need to lay off on the guilt, too, Rick.”  
“What are you talking about?” Rick tried to evade TC’s gaze, but he’d effectively pinned himself down by being Magnum’s support.  
“I know you’re blaming yourself for letting it get this far. But I told you earlier, our boy is just too good at hiding things.” TC was firm.  
“I should have known.”  
“We both should have. But we’re here now, and all things considered, this wasn’t one of the worst nights.”  
“You’re right. Much though I hate to admit that you’re right about anything.” Rick’s smile took the sting from the words.  
“I know. Hurts, doesn’t it?” Smug wasn’t a good look on TC, as far as Rick was concerned.  
“You have no idea.”

Silence filled the room then, a warm, comforting blanket, shot through with the gentle sound of ocean waves filtering in through the open windows. Rick leaned his head back against the cushion. Out the corner of his eye, he could see TC do the same. Another night sleeping somewhere other than their own beds. Well, they’d both slept in worse places. And the same worst place, as well, for eighteen months and eleven days. In comparison, this was close to heaven.

Rick was dozing when he heard TC speak again.  
“My first tour tomorrow is at ten.”  
“And?” Rick knew there had to be a point to this conversation.  
“We’re going surfing, early. Have the waves to ourselves. Some sunshine, a little ocean breeze.”  
“Nice.” Rick could almost feel the warmth and smell the salt air. “How’d you guess?”  
“You seriously asking me that, Orville?” TC managed to sound both offended and self-righteous. “How long have we been doing this?”  
“Years.”  
“Where do we always go after a night like this?” TC stared Rick down, then smiled, “No guessing required, my friend.”

Magnum’s voice chipped in, words so quiet the two men strained to hear them clearly.  
“Surf here.”  
“Sure, buddy.” Rick smiled fondly at their sleepy companion. “No paddling for you for a while, though. You can watch from the beach.”  
A hint of a smile flitted across Magnum’s face. The medication had relieved the last of the pain, and sleep – proper, healing, sleep – was dragging him down.  
TC shook his head.  
“No wonder you can’t sneak anything past him.”  
“Ears like a bat.” Rick agreed.  
Then he and TC had to bite back the laughter as Thomas’s quiet voice faded into sleep, his last question lingering for a moment.  
“Not bats. You said … Club’s full of rabbits?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Language note: ‘Ashetbah men’ means ‘My fault’ in Dari – I hope. The translation and transliteration comes directly from Google, so I’m crossing my fingers that it’s accurate.


End file.
